


Set the Stars Alight

by Zapino



Category: Troyler - Fandom, Troyler RPF, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Brief mentions of gore, Coming of Age, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Historical Inaccuracy, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Minor Violence, Original Universe, Princes & Princesses, but then again kinda not, kinda like fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zapino/pseuds/Zapino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he left his homeland as a young knight’s squire, Tyler never imagined he would return as a man tempered by the cruelties he had seen, only to be accused of crimes he didn’t commit. But then again, he also never expected that the noose around his neck would be cut by someone he had only ever met three times before, yet had captivated him from the very start - the young prince Troye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (See the trailer for this story here: https://youtu.be/YpR2DVBYViQ. It was made by my friend Lilu, whom you'll find on lilulovelee.tumblr.com. She also made all the following edits for this work unless otherwise specified.)

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Trumpets blasted a sonorous melody, carried on the wind that had flags in the royal colors flutter and dance as it swept across the courtyard. The main gates stood open to allow the villagers to pour in and fill the courtyard to the brim. No one was denied entry this day, for the joyous occasion was that of welcoming their lord and master, King Shaun, back from his travels. The King had been away for a long time to carry out negotiations and settle treaties with distant and mysterious lands, the names of which only educated and well-traveled citizens would be able to tell you. The milling crowds were abuzz with chatter and laughter, eager to see their King reunited with his family at last.

It was a rare connection they had - the royal family and the people under their rule – one that was more or less unheard of in earlier records or from neighboring regions. The respect that the citizens had for them was earned through something everyone could give, something that didn't cost a thing, yet was more precious and valuable than any kind of riches. The same care and devotedness that King Shaun showed his wife Laurelle and their family, he showed his people too. And just as much did his people love their king and his family in return.

King Shaun was a fair monarch who ruled with a steady hand and a compassionate heart. Never did he need to set fear into his subordinates, because he was by nature the kind of man who when speaking, others listened. That certainly didn't mean that there weren't those who disagreed with him, or those he needed to be a bit firmer with. Yet there hadn't been the slightest threat to his rule, neither from outside nor from within the borders of his kingdom, in all of his nigh on 15 years on the throne.

Still, King Shaun was meticulous in keeping a strong league of defense around him and had a solid scattering of loyal knights appointed to different regions around the land. Being princes, King Shaun had already made sure that all his sons would receive training in the art of war when they were older. Then, if need be, they would know how to defend themselves and their people, and if they never had to make use of their knowledge, it was at least a character building skill to have.

Though, there was no need to worry about such things yet. The royal children still had some years until that would appear on the agenda, the youngest of them being only a few months old.

A boy with tussled hair the color of rye on a summer field stood among the gathered that day. His cheeks were flushed with excitement at being allowed to join his mother after pleading with her to take him with her. He was standing far up the narrow corridor left between the crowds for the royal party, almost at the very entryway to the inner wards, where no one but the noble with their counsel and staff were allowed in. Much like many other children there, he was right at the front of the crowd, just in between two guards that stood a few paces apart to flank the path. His mother was standing behind him, her hands a comforting presence on his shoulders so that he wouldn't vanish in the sea of people.

Tyler's little heart was beating fast and he kept leaning forward to peer past the guard blocking his view of the open gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of the king. It was his first time attending something like this, having been deemed too young when this had taken place earlier during his six year long life. He'd never seen any member of the royal family in the flesh before and only knew of them from the stories his parents had told him.

Suddenly, the trumpets blared once more and the noise made Tyler jump as cheers rose from the crowds around him. He rose up on his tippy toes, leaning this way and that to see past the waving hands that disrupted his line of sight. White flower petals began raining down from the battlements above them just as Tyler saw the first few guards riding in on grey stallions. After them followed the king's advisors and there, just behind them on a horse the color of rich, fertile soil, rode King Shaun. The cheers rose magnificently in volume as people began spotting him, and Tyler lifted his hands to cover his ears at the loud noise.

King Shaun waved back at the crowds, smiling widely, for he too was glad to finally be home once more. Once inside the gates, the king swung his leg over the back of his horse and slid off, landing on steady feet on the ground beside it. A flurry of movement in the corner of his eye made

Tyler's focus shift to two little brown haired boys dressed in dark blue embroidered tunics rushing down the stoned path. He followed them with curious eyes and saw the king laugh and kneel, spreading his arms out wide to catch the boys as they hurled themselves into his embrace.

"Who are they?" Tyler asked, glancing up at his mother while lowering his hands from his ears.

"They are the two oldest princes," Jackie smiled down at her son and lifted her hand to point at the three as they were hugging. "That's Steele, the crown prince. He's six, like you. And the younger one is Troye; he's just turned four this summer."

Tyler turned back to look at them just as the king rose to his feet, bringing the younger prince up into his arms and settling him on his hip. With his other hand on the older prince's shoulder, they began walking up the path once more. Tyler studied them carefully, his curious gaze quickly landing on the boy sitting on the king's arm, fascinated by his blue eyes and the wide, laughing smile on his round cheeks.

"He's pretty," Tyler remarked, his words becoming quickly swallowed up by the bustle of jubilation around him.

As Tyler watched them walk past him and drawing ever nearer to the gates of the inner wards, he saw something fall from behind the king's back. It bounced slightly as it landed on the stone paved ground a few paces in front of Tyler and he looked down to see that is was a stuffed doll, its features worn and threadbare in some places.

Quickly looking back up at the retreating back of the king and his sons, Tyler gasped as he realized the younger prince must have accidentally dropped it without noticing.

Without giving it a second thought, Tyler wiggled out of his mother's grip, hearing yet ignoring her crying out his name as he rushed forward. The noise from the crowds turned from cheerful to that of shocked gasps as Tyler made his way to the doll and bent to pick it up.

"Sire!" Tyler called as he set off after the royal party, which had yet to notice anything amiss. Even the guards seemed unsure of how to proceed.

Running to catch up, Tyler was a bit out of breath as he turned to face the king and his sons once he'd made his way passed them. "Sire!" he tried again, lifting the doll up and waving it around to gain their attention. "You dropped this!"

King Shaun pulled to a stop at the commotion, his eyes widening and quickly flitting down to land on Tyler. His gaze was steady and it seemed to pierce through Tyler as the king stared back at him intently. Tyler gulped as he suddenly realized that he was probably stepping out of bounds of what was appropriate behavior toward someone of so much higher standing than him, and quickly bowed his head in submission.

"My lord dropped his doll," he mumbled while staring at his feet, feeling his cheeks flush. He didn't lower his arm however, instead keeping it lifted to show the cause of his brazen interruption of the proceedings. A pause followed, the moment hanging suspended in the atmosphere as everyone seemed to hold their breath, awaiting the king's reaction.

"How chivalrous of you, my boy," a deep voice spoke gently above the collective whisper that washed through the crowds around them.

Tyler felt his eyes widen, wondering if he'd imagined the voice, and lifted his head to stare at the man in front of him.

"May I be so bold as to ask your name?" King Shaun smiled down at him, his eyes seeming to twinkle with merriment while the prince looked from Tyler to the tattered doll in his hand.

"Tyler, my lord," he replied and let his eyes flicker for second to the boy on the king's arm as he lifted the doll once more, urging the prince to take it.

"I hope you haven't forgotten your manners while I was gone, Troye?" King Shaun turned his head to focus on his son. "Now, what do you say?" he asked while bending slightly to allow his son to pluck the stuffed toy from Tyler's grip.

"Thank you," Troye said in a small voice and as soon as King Shaun stood back up, he turned to hide his face in his father's neck, clutching the doll to his chest. The king turned back to smile at Tyler once more.

"Indeed, thank you, Tyler. You would make a fine knight one day," he added with a wink before stepping around Tyler to continue his way toward the castle.

Tyler backed up a few steps to allow the rest of the advisors and servants past, letting his eyes following the retreating back of the king and his sons as they walked away. His mother came rushing up, a bustle of skirts and flushed cheeks.

"Tyler, that was very kind of you, but please don't run from me like that again," she admonished him gently while ruffling his hair. "And especially not to disturb the king or his family."

Tyler simply nodded at his mother and turned to look toward the gates again. He did so just in time to see prince Troye lift his head from his father's shoulder and peek back at him. They stared at each other for long moments before Troye and his father were swallowed up by the crowds of the inner bailey and vanished from Tyler's sight.

—^-^-^—

"Is mother joining us? Maybe we should wait for her," Steele asked as he turned toward their father at the head of the grand table in the dining hall.

Troye looked up from his plate and saw his father shake his head briefly, a frown forming on his brow as he lifted his cup of ale to his lips. Shaun gulped down the contents before setting the cup down a bit heavier than necessary and waved one of the servants over for a refill.

"Her chambermaid tells me the queen wishes to be alone this evening," Shaun replied monotonously and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Go on, eat your meal. Your mother wouldn't think it disrespectful."

"But maybe if you send someone to fetch her? I haven't talked to mother in two days. I wish to tell her about the stag I saw-" Steele tried again, but was interrupted when the king slapped his palm down on the table, making the dishes rattle from the blow.

Troye jumped in fright, both at the noise and at the sudden flare of his father's temper. He knew as well as any of his siblings that it didn't take much for him to go off these days when it came to mentions of their mother. Glancing to his side, he saw Sage stare at her hands as she clenched them together in her lap, her knuckles whitening from the strain and a sheen of tears in her eyes.

"I said, eat," Shaun repeated through clenched teeth while fixing his oldest son with a stern glare. "That's the last time I tell you."

Steele stared wide eyed at his father for a few moments before lowering his gaze to the plate of food in front of him, blinking back tears.

Troye studied his father a moment longer while slipping his hand out underneath the table to gently grip Sage's clenched hands. She looked up at him and Troye gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her that everything was alright, and nudged his head toward her plate. His own distress didn't matter when his sister needed comforting. She was only a little girl, no more than nine years old and even though Troye was merely two years older himself, his heart clenched at seeing her upset by how their father was acting.

The meal that followed was a silent affair, no one at the table making any further attempts at speaking over the quiet din of cutlery scraping across their plates. The knot in Troye's stomach prevented him from managing more than a few bites of the food that had been placed in front of him and he excused himself from the table after only a short while, claiming tiredness.

It hadn't always been like this. They might be royalty and some may assumed them to be more detached from one another than any other family would be; the nobility of Troye's parents dictating the nature of his interactions with them to be that of respect for his sovereigns, preventing them from having close and loving relationships. That assumption couldn't be further from the truth.

There had been a time, not that long ago, when their home was filled with joy – when there wasn't a day that passed without Troye learning over and over again that his parents loved him and his siblings more than anything on this earth. There had been stories of brave knights and fair princesses while huddled up in front of the hearth on chilly nights. There had been silly dancing in the grand ballroom while the servants lining the walls tried but failed to keep from joining in the children's peals of delighted laughter.

There had been flower picking in the fields behind the castle, where no one was left without a crown on their head at the end of the day, not even the king's wolfhounds that ran in excited circles around them. His mother Laurelle, the queen, had always been there – a constant presence in all of those good moments.

And then the queen fell ill. It happened suddenly with a high fever and headaches which lasted for most of a week. When the fever finally relented, one of the queen's chambermaids noticed a strange red, perfectly round circle on the skin around the back of the queen's knee, setting off a torrent of whispers of witchcraft and divine punishment through the court. The king had been quick to douse the reputations, threatening to jail all those who dared imply that anyone – even God – would have reason to wish harm on his beloved wife.

To everyone's relief, Laurelle slowly recovered and had felt better by the day. That was why it came as a surprise when a short while later, she began complaining about a dull ache in her joints and excruciating headaches. People with knowledge of the body and different ailments were called in from every corner of the land to aid their queen, yet none of their remedies or attempts at restoring the balance of her humors helped for long. The demons that had taken up residence inside Laurelle's body were strong beyond any treatment they could think of. So the queen withdrew into her chambers for long periods, claiming a deep exhaustion that left her unable to do much more than rest.

When any of the children were allowed to visit their mother in her rooms, or when she ventured out to partake in the evening meal, her spirits were low and her mood short, often making her lash out for seemingly no reason at all. The children found it peculiar, but Laurelle would sometimes seem to forget even the simplest of words; one day she had sat in bed, stuttering and huffing in irritation while pointing at the dresser, unable to express that she wanted someone to bring her the comb. And many had noticed her hands trembling beyond her control before she quickly hid them from view once she noticed it too... Not a word was said about it.

With his wife hiding away in her rooms, the king had begun to mourn her as if she had already left the earthly plane. The atmosphere that settled over the castle and its inhabitants was one of hesitance, grief, and careful awareness. Conversations were held in low murmurs and most seemed on edge, watching their words and manners to the point where they were almost skittering from one room to the next to carry out their duties. There seemed to be no hope that things would ever get back to the way things had been before, even if all included Queen Laurelle in their prayers.

For the first time in his short life, Troye felt uncomfortable in his own home. He still loved his parents, more than anything else, but their focus was elsewhere than on the happiness and wellbeing of their children.

Maybe it would always be so from now on, Troye thought as he slipped through familiar corridors and up the stairs toward his chambers. It hadn't been that long ago since he'd been allowed to move from the nursery, which he'd shared with his sister and younger brother Tyde up until then, to his own set of rooms. For now, the maids from the nursery tended to Troye too before he could be appointed his own chambermaid. This meant that he was alone once he reached his rooms and shut the heavy oak door behind him.

Candles had been lit, lighting up the corners of the room to chase away the ever growing shadows of the autumn evening. Though, Troye was much too distracted by the events at the table downstairs to retire for the night just yet. The thought of practicing the reading that brother Eliot had assigned after Troye's last lesson didn't appeal at all.

Looking over to the far right corner, Troye saw the candles there flicker in a slight breeze, one that couldn't be felt anywhere else in the room but there, and all at once, Troye knew what he was going to do to clear his head.

Quickly sweeping a cloak over his shoulders, Troye hurried over to that very corner and lifted the heavy tapestry that covered most of the far wall, depicting the scene of a battle long ago. Behind the tapestry was a small wooden door, about half the height of a fully grown man and therefore reaching Troye's chest. He opened the door and bent forward, stepping onto the narrow stone staircase beyond and closing the door behind him.

Having used the secret passageway many times before, Troye was quickly descending the stairs, knowing his way despite the pitch black of his surroundings. It wasn't long until the stairs leveled into a short corridor and moonlight trickled in through the exit just up ahead.

Troye pushed the thick of twigs and leaves aside, pushing through the shrubbery that covered the exit of the passageway from view and stumbled a bit as he finally reached the outside world. Straightening his back, he regained his balance and glanced back over his shoulder at the high walls topped with battlements further behind him. The night guard wouldn't see him from here, not while he kept to the little grove of trees that surrounded him. He turned forward again and set off in a slight run; he couldn't be gone for too long and he wanted to have a moment in his favorite stargazing spot before anyone would miss him.

Emerging from the trees and stepping out into the open, Troye gasped and skidded to a halt when his eyes fell on the dark outline of a solid form a bit further down the field. The grassy planes sloped gently, tapering into an old dried out river bed that wove and cut through the landscape. Large fields billowed as far as the eye could see, a few denser patches of trees scattered along the hilltops. The slope opposite to where Troye was standing was adorned with the dark etchings of a fairly travelled road and Troye had observed merchants with heavy wagons make their way toward the village on it on many occasions.

At first Troye thought it might be an animal. One could never be too careful and a wolverine or a bear would mean fleeing as fast as he could in the other direction. But as Troye kept his eyes trained on the being, he could slowly make out a very humanlike head perched atop a set of shoulders, and soon realized that he was looking at the back of someone sitting in his spot.

With his heart racing, Troye crept closer, careful not to make any noise.

Who would be sitting outside alone in a field this far away from the village and at this hour? Troye ignored the little voice in his head that wondered if he shouldn't be asking himself the same thing and moved ever nearer to the person. Could it be a hunter or maybe a beggar? What if it was an escaped murderer?

The closer he got, the faster Troye's heart pumped in his chest. But the reduced distance also meant that Troye was starting to get an idea of the size of the stranger. They weren't much bigger than Troye. At closer inspection, the person had short blond hair that took on a slightly iridescent quality in the moonlight and on the grass beside them lay a bow and quiver full of feathered arrows.

Troye swallowed and pulled at his sleeves while pausing in his step. The other boy didn't seem all that dangerous. Troye didn't know that many children his age besides his own siblings and the few that lived with their parents in the bailey around the castle. And although he'd made his way out here to be alone for a moment, perhaps a bit of company wouldn't hurt.

Standing only a few paces behind the other boy, Troye took another step forward and didn't notice the twig he'd stepped on before it was too late.

It snapped loudly under his foot and Troye almost stopped breathing when the boy in front of him was suddenly on his feet, drawing back the string on his bow and aiming an arrow right at Troye's head.

"Don't shoot!" Troye cried and lifted his hands in front of him, terrified of what the boy might do yet thankful that he hadn't released the arrow.

"What do you want?" the boy demanded, still keeping his weapon lifted and pointed at Troye.

"I was just curios," Troye spoke quickly before the boy changed his mind about keeping him alive. Troye stared at the boy while pleading with him, but when the other didn't so much as blink in response, Troye closed his eyes and waited for the worst.

"Please, don't kill me," he whispered and felt tears start to build in his eyes. He'd never been so afraid and now it seemed his curiosity would be his demise. Silence permeated the night air around him and Troye could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he waited for whatever was about to happen.

"What are you doing here?"

The question came in an unexpectedly mild voice after the horrors that Troye's mind had imagined and he blinked his eyes open to stare at the boy, relieved to find his bow lowered but not out of his grip.

"I- I swear I wasn't trying to intrude. I'm Troye, one of the -"

"I know who you are," the boy interrupted and shifted his stance while dropping his arms to his sides, letting the bow and arrow hang from one hand. "And I asked what you are doing here. It seems a bit foolish of a prince to leave the safety of his castle at this hour."

"Stargazing," Troye replied and tried to regain his breath. "I come here to look at the stars."

The other boy paused while processing Troye's words, his regard steady. Troye tried to calm his heart and held the boy's gaze just as steadily, wondering how he knew who Troye was.

"I could have killed you, my lord," the boy said in a lower tone, as if afraid to speak louder of what he'd been close to doing.

"But you didn't," Troye answered and gave him a small smile of gratitude. The sudden bark of humorless laughter that escaped the other made him jump.

"Thank God for that, or I'd be dangling from the gallows before dawn," the boy said and turned to fall back into his seat with a deep sigh, his legs seeming to almost give out from the way he folded them underneath him.

Troye decided to take the gesture as invitation to join the boy and walked quickly forward to sit down beside him. "I didn't mean to startle you. What is your name?" he asked as he turned to look at the other's profile as he stared out at the landscape. Sitting this close, Troye noticed that although clearly very young, the boy looked a bit older than him, if only by a few years at most.

"It's Tyler, my lord," the boy replied.

"Please, call me Troye," Troye insisted. "I'm glad to meet you, Tyler, even if I could have done without the threat of death." He added a short laugh to make his jest clear.

"Oh, we've met before," Tyler said and turned to smile mysteriously at him.

"We have?" Troye lifted one of his eyebrows at Tyler in curiosity and tried to recall if he'd seen him before. "I'm afraid I don't remember. When?"

"Don't fret, it was a mere moment and I'm sure you've had more exciting things to fill your memories since. But I've never forgotten."

There was a strange fondness in Tyler's eyes as he looked at Troye and Troye suddenly found himself unable to look back. He felt his cheeks fill with heat as he averted his gaze.

"I got to speak to your father and I've later understood how special that is," Tyler continued after a moment.

Troye blinked, the small smile on his face gone in a beat.

"Oh," he said and was unable to disguise the slightly disappointed quality of his voice. Trying to make sense of where it had come from, he picked at a few blades of grass distractedly.

"But I also got to hand you back your doll," Tyler added and smiled at him when Troye lifted his head once more.

A brief image of a boy much smaller than Tyler, but with the same color hair, flashed in front of Troye's minds eye and he frowned in concentration as he tried to latch onto the fleeting memory.

"Hang on. I think I do remember you," Troye said as he focused on Tyler's face. "It was when father came back from one of his travels."

Tyler looked surprised for a moment before laughing gently. "Indeed. I'm impressed that you remember."

"Of course I do, that doll was my favorite," Troye smiled back. "Thank you again for returning it, Tyler."

The smile on Tyler's face softened. “I am glad I could help, Troye."

Their conversation soon turned to other things, their focus settling on the stars that were strewn across the dark sky above them. The moon shone bright, only a few days away from being a perfectly round disc in the heavens. Troye pointed out Orion and the Great Bear, as well as the Seven Sisters that he had learned from his mother. Tyler listened avidly while Troye told him ancient tales from civilizations long gone of how the stars had been lit.

It wasn't until Tyler tried to hide a large yawn behind his hand that Troye noticed how late the hour had grown, looking up to see the moon much higher than it should be while he was still out.

"I have to go," Troye gasped and stood up quickly, brushing of his pants. "I've stayed much too long."

Tyler got to his feet beside him and rubbed at his eyes while nodding. "I should go too before mother wonders if I've gotten lost," he said through another yawn. "Will we meet here again tomorrow?"

Barely had the words left Tyler's mouth before someone shouted Troye's name from the forest behind them. They started and turned quickly to look, seeing a figure come walking out from the dark line of trees and walk towards them in determined strides.

"Oh no," Troye whispered. "It's my brother."

"Is he angry with you?" Tyler asked and glanced at Troye.

"I don't know," Troye admitted, shaking his head. Steele was close enough now for Troye to be able to make out the details of his face in the moonlight. "Possibly. But now he knows about this place. It's my stargazing spot; I wanted to keep it a secret."

"But I know it now too."

Troye turned to look at Tyler, seeing a quick dispirited look flit across his face. Worrying that Tyler felt like he'd intruded, Troye carefully reached out and brushed his hand against Tyler's where it hung at his side. When the touch made Tyler lift his head to look at him again, Troye smiled softly.

"It can be our stargazing spot from now on," Troye said and saw Tyler's lips lift into a smile just as Steele reached them.

"Troye, are you mad?" Steele huffed through his labored breath and frowned at Troye as he turned to look at him. "What are you doing out here this late? And who's this?" Steele turned his frown on Tyler.

"This is Tyler, my new friend. He lives outside the village with his family," Troye said and saw Steele glance Tyler up and down with a doubtful curl to his lip before turning back to Troye. "I merely forgot the time, is all. You won't tell father, will you?"

"You know I have to," his brother sighed. "You cannot do things like this, disappearing in the middle of the night. What if something happened to you? Think of mother, Troye."

Troye felt his stomach sink at the mention of his mother. It was so unfair. He wished he wasn't a prince; that way he wouldn't have to stay inside the castle's cold stone walls all the time. He'd be free to have all the friends he'd want and go outside as much his heart desired. But he knew Steele was right, no matter how much he wished it wasn't so. With sadness in his heart for the new friend he'd made but most likely would never see again, Troye slowly turned to Tyler once more.

"I'm sorry, but I can't come back tomorrow. It's probably best if I don't return at all." He saw some of the light dim in Tyler's eyes as he spoke and swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

"Oh," Tyler said quietly and looked down at his shuffling feet. "Then I'm glad to have had the chance to meet you a second time, my lord."

"I told you already; it's Troye," Troye argued gently.

Tyler lifted his gaze and gave Troye a careful smile. "Until next time, Troye."

"Until then," Troye smiled back and lingered for a moment longer before turning to hurry after his brother up the slight incline toward the forest.

—^-^-^— 

Tyler stood a bit off to the side in the throne room, holding the heavy shield with Sir Andrew's family weapon carved and painted in bright red and yellow upon it while watching the proceedings. It was a quiet audience with the king, including a few on-lookers aside from the king's advisors and a handful of guards.

Having just turned 16 earlier that spring, Tyler had only recently been appointed as Sir Andrew's new squire, after the previous boy fell ill with consumption. It was by pure chance that Tyler found himself in Sir Andrew's employment; their fathers knew each other from when they'd been farmhands in their younger years and Tyler's father had been quick to offer his son's help without asking him first.

Tyler didn't mind that much - he got to live at the estate with Sir Andrew and a few servants, and even had his own horse. Now though, they were in preparations to leave their land for a while to uphold relations with neighboring regions and represent their court at a few celebrations that the king would be unable to attend.

Tyler was excited to leave on a bit of an adventure for the first time in his young life, but there were small things he already found himself missing. Like the small, dark, seemingly bottomless lake that lay hidden inside the old forest behind his family's farm. And attending the market with his mother and father to sell the produce they gathered from tending said farm and its animals. And the vast fields on the hill behind the castle, where Tyler would often sit on clear nights to look at the stars and try to recall old stories about them that he'd once been told.

Yet, right in that moment, Tyler's focus was elsewhere, for sitting beside the king was a very familiar boy. He looked a bit out of place in the slightly smaller seat beside the older man, with a simple golden crown atop his head and eyes wide, seeming fascinated by the conversation between the king and Sir Andrew.

Prince Troye had yet to spot Tyler at all, since he hadn't yet been present when Tyler and his master arrived a short while earlier. But Tyler had spotted him and now he simply couldn't look away.

The last time they'd met, Tyler had been too young to know why he thought Troye different to any other boy or girl his age. Disregarding the knowledge that he was a prince, which of course made him special, all Tyler had known back then was that he found the prince enthralling for some reason. But watching large blue eyes flicker between the king and the knight before them, Tyler now understood that it was because Troye was absolutely lovely.

He was still young, a soft roundness like that of a child lingering on his features even now in his teens, making him look innocent and a bit too small for his crown. But that didn't make him any less precious, even if Tyler wasn't much older himself.

Tyler smiled as Troye fumbled with something that he had been holding in his hand and almost dropped it to the floor. A small chuckle escaped Tyler as Troye's hand shot out to catch whatever it was just as it was about to roll off his knee.

Troye's head lifted quickly to look in Tyler's direction and paused once he saw him, only to blink and smile a moment later when he seemed to recognize Tyler as well.

They stared at each other for a breath or two before Troye's eyes slowly began wandering down Tyler's body. Then he suddenly seemed to remember where he was and lifted his gaze back to Tyler's, looking close to startled at his own behavior. A blush bloomed on his cheeks as he ducked his head and Tyler felt an answering heat fill his own cheeks while he laughed softly, all at once trying not to draw the attention of others while flattered by the prince's unguarded scrutiny.

Turning his face forward with a bashful smile, Troye waited a moment before glancing surreptitiously at Tyler once more. This time, Tyler couldn't help but lift his hand in a little wave and felt a thrill rush through him as he saw Troye fight a smile as he looked away quickly.

"The sad news of your previous squire reached me just a fortnight ago, Sir Andrew. May his soul find rest. Have you managed to acquire someone to take up his duties yet?" the king's voice interrupted Tyler's silent musings.

Sir Andrew turned to Tyler and gestured him forward to join him in front of the throne. Tyler lifted the shield in his hands and hurried to the man's side, quickly schooling his features into a mask of polite respect, trying not to look at the prince.

"This is Tyler, my lord," Andrew said. "He's the son of a good friend of my father's and he has already proved a quick study and a good worker."

"Ahh, that's good," the king remarked as he glanced at Tyler. "Then, if everything is in order, all that remains is to wish you both Godspeed and that you return safely from your journey."

The king lifted his hand and motioned Troye forward. Tyler's eyes followed the prince as he lifted from his seat and moved toward them, keeping his face carefully blank but for a small smile while he came to a stop in front of Sir Andrew.

"For good fortune, with the Queen's regard," Troye said and lifted his hands to place a beautiful silver needle at the man's collar. Sir Andrew bowed his head in thanks before turning to bow to the king as well.

When Troye moved over to stand in front of him next, Tyler lost his breath for a moment at having the other boy so close. He felt his heart quicken when Troye stepped closer and lifted his hands to his collar.

"For good fortune, with the Queen's regard," he repeated, this time a bit quieter. Once the needle was in place, Troye's eyes lifted to Tyler's and lingered there while he brushed his fingers over the collar, as if smoothing out wrinkles in the fabric.

"Thank you, my lord," Tyler smiled and stepped back to bow slightly, keeping his gaze on Troye's.

"It's Troye," the other whispered so quietly that Tyler almost wouldn't have trusted his own ears if it wasn't for the way Troye's smile widened once more.

Once back on his horse and riding a step behind Sir Andrew on their way back to the estate, Tyler lifted his hand to let his fingertips dance over his silver needle while becoming lost in thought. He hoped that his duties would bring him back to the court soon and that their journey wouldn't keep him from seeing the prince again for too long.

Little did he know just how long it would be until he would see his home again.

|||||||||||| 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Since this was originally posted on wattpad, this story has a book cover, and here it is: http://36.media.tumblr.com/f19843eee23384306cf08e30d6f97c02/tumblr_nx3ftwi9wM1tx0d8no1_500.jpg by lilulovelee.tumblr.com)

A rustle from the brush startled them both, making Roisin snort harshly and step sideways while Tyler tightened the reigns, swiftly turning toward the sound. Both rider and horse sharpened their senses in anticipation for the noise to come again.

Roisin gave another short snort and treaded uneasily on the spot. Leaning forward, Tyler patted her neck reassuringly. "Shh," he whispered as his eyes searched the forest beside them. "Easy, girl."

Silently reaching back over his shoulder, Tyler plucked an arrow from the holster and set it against the bow in his left hand. A short, tense moment later, the rustling was back, along with what sounded like the hollow cluck of a stone being dropped into a lake, and Tyler's eyes focused swiftly on a few moving branches. Quickly lifting his weapon, he took aim and only had to wait a heartbeat's worth before a large wood grouse came charging out of the thick foliage, its lifted black tail feathers gleaming in greens and blues when they caught the light.

Tyler didn't need to make a conscious decision before letting the arrow fly, watching as the proud bird fell to a swift death before it could reach the edge of the forest. Breathing the tension from his body, Tyler smiled widely and patted Roisin's neck again, this time in cheerful camaraderie.

"And that's your master's supper settled," he grinned while dismounting to gather the bird from the ground. After removing the arrow, he fastened the wood grouse to the back of his saddle, where the rest of his sparse belongings were rolled up in a bundle of a few thin blankets.

He hadn't been able to take much with him when he finally found an opportunity to leave for home, not wanting to be weighed down by carrying more than the bare minimum of what he'd need for his journey.

Tyler mounted the gentle, grey mare once more, reassured that he'd be able to properly fill his belly that night and the day after. Not that he had been starving; his long experience with hunting saw to it that he would have something to eat every day. But the large bird would be a nice change from the bunnies and squirrels that he had been getting by on for most of the way there.

The narrow yet well-worn road they travelled wove its way past the dense growth of the seemingly ancient trees that surrounded them. The sun's rays trickled down through branches that rose high above them, gently swaying in a breeze that went unnoticed by creatures that kept to the ground. Tyler drew a deep breath, the sweet, dewy smell of pine and spruce comforting him as he urged Roisin into a walk. He was just inside the borders of his homeland, having entered the vast forests that covered the outer eastern regions just that morning.

This was his home. This was where he belonged, and he hadn't felt its absence stronger before than he did now upon returning. Rocked slowly from side to side with every step his horse took, Tyler allowed his mind to wander as his eyes went unfocused, looking back at memories of past events rather than the path before them.

It had been nearly four years since he had left these lands, lead by a man of great honor and a gentle soul. Sir Andrew had been a formidable guide for a youngster like Tyler, instilling in him a strong sense of morals at what was a pivotal time in every young man's life. He'd seen to it that Tyler not only knew how to be an adult that could take care of himself; he'd also taught him to be helpful to others and always offer his assistance to those who needed it. Bravery, chivalry, kindness, and selflessness – every step of Tyler's tutelage was steeped with qualities expected of a knight.

But with the code that a knight must live by, came an irrevocable commitment to the crown, lest the knight in question wanted to be without house and title, if not even prosecuted. And so it was that Sir Andrew had no choice but to follow the instructions of his king as they came by missive to the foreign court in which he's been set to serve.

The original mission was for Sir Andrew to act as a neutral party in negotiations between the ally he served and one of their neighboring countries, which had long been at odds with each other. It had all gone fairly well, with treaties being negotiated and slowly drafted under peaceful circumstances. But several months later, when matters turned suddenly heated, Sir Andrew had stepped back to await word from King Shaun on how to proceed. After all, he didn't want to risk involving his own country in a conflict that had little to do with them.

Tension rose between the two rivaling sides as weeks turned to months, and just on the brink of seeing the beginnings of physical altercations, word had finally arrived: Sir Andrew was to aid his acting commander and carry out whatever duties was bestowed upon him as a token of King Shaun's good will. And so was his squire.

Tyler closed his eyes for a moment, distractedly letting his fingers dance over the little pin hidden underneath his collar - the only thing he had left that carried any value - as visions of terror stole across his mind. Visions he'd rather forget yet knew that he would carry with him for as long as he lived.

Behind his closed eyelids lay a misty field soaked in blood and littered with mutilated bodies, now eerily silent when lacking the cries that had blanketed the grounds earlier. And there, just a few paces ahead, he saw it: the red and yellow of Sir Andrew's crest, its colors dulled by stains of dirt and blood, and the heavy shield which it decorated still attached to a severed arm.

Tyler's eyes flew open and he gasped as if surfacing from being under water too long. Fighting to regain his breath, his wide gaze swiftly took stock of his surroundings. Roisin was still walking steadily along, unaware of her master's distress. Closing his eyes in gratitude that he wasn't somehow back and reliving the horrors that filled his nightmares, Tyler let the rhythmic, calming pace of Roisin's breathing help him slowly regulate his.

Once more calm, Tyler became aware of his hand still gripping the fine silver pin so tightly that its edges were digging painfully into the pads of his fingers. Sighing softly, he uncurled his fist and glanced down at the reddened indentations in his skin.

It wouldn't do him any good to keep lingering on what had been. It was all in the past and there was nothing that he or anyone else could do to change how things had gone now. He was finally home again, even if he returned a changed man from the relatively carefree days of his childhood.

And while he hadn't yet heard back from his king, Tyler was certain that he was expected to appear before King Shaun within the next few days. Word of the battles must have reached them by now, and surely there were some who worried about Sir Andrew's health. They all deserved to know more about what had happened than what a short message could express, especially Sir Andrew's remaining relatives. And King Shaun would surely be interested in knowing how the negotiations could have gone so wrong as to inspire war.

With the long journey home ahead, Tyler had unfortunately been forced to leave Sir Andrew's body behind. There was no helping hand to spare in a kingdom suffering great losses of its own and with no holy ground nearby, an unmarked grave on the banks of a serene river had to make due. Staying to pray long and thoroughly over his master's earthly remains, Tyler had done his best to ensure the spirit's safe entry through the heavenly gates. It was the least he could do as a gesture of gratitude for the time he'd been privileged enough to have Sir Andrew foster him from a boy into a man, even under unfairly harsh circumstances.

A blood curdling scream suddenly cut through the air, sounding from further ahead. Tyler pulled Roisin to a stop as he tensed, his senses on high alert once more. That had been no animal. When a second scream followed shortly after, Tyler reacted more on reflex than anything else when he urged Roisin into a run. Someone, a woman by the sounds of it, was in obvious distress and there wasn't a fiber in Tyler's body that told him to do anything other than run to their aid.

He gripped his bow as they neared a bend in the road, his ears now picking up the sounds of a struggle just up ahead. Pulling Roisin into a slower pace, he reached back for an arrow and steadied his aim, ready for whatever sight might greet them. The woman's screams, which had been uninterrupted until then, went abruptly silent just as Tyler rounded the corner.

The arrow flew even as time seemed to slow, and Tyler's eyes watered from the scene he'd come upon. His aim faltered slightly along with the gasp that left his lips, making the arrow dip in its trajectory while hurling towards a hooded man standing over the young woman that had been screaming just moments before. The reason for her sudden silence was held aloft in the man's hand, blade glinting in the sun in places where it was still unstained by crimson. The same crimson covered the woman's hands, seeping through her fingers as she clutched her neck, her mouth desperately opening and closing in search of breath. But what made Tyler's stomach turn was seeing the swell of her belly form a perfect mound of life under the soft sapphire blue of her silk dress.

Time sped up again when the arrow sank deep into the man's leg and he screamed out in pain. Tyler's focus was ripped from the dying woman on the ground. Two more hooded men were busy ransacking everything of value from the small wagon, which was being detached from two horses by a third man. Beside the woman lay a young man, already dead and being robbed of the coin pouch on his belt. The sudden shout made all of them pause and turn towards Tyler as they one by one realized his presence.

The rest happened in a blur. One moment Tyler was kicking at one of the men who attempted to pull him from his saddle, hearing the blast of a horn somewhere off in the distance, and the next he was leaning over the dying woman, listening to thundering hoofs drawing away from them as the robbers fled.

He blinked rapidly to stave his tears, trying to reassure the girl that her baby would be alright, hushing her as he stroked soft red curls from her brow. The choked sounds from her pale lips grew fewer and further in between, only to eventually draw to an unforgiving halt as her wide eyes turned distant and empty.

Silence was suddenly deafening; the birds around them had stopped singing and even the wind had mellowed as if to lament the girl's passing. Tyler's breath stuttered as he blinked and lifted his head, scanning his surroundings. He was relieved to see Roisin only a few paces away, having been spared by the robbers, but visibly shaken.

The same horn from earlier blasted again, much nearer this time, and Tyler recognized it as the signal that heralded the royal guard. They had most likely been alerted by the girl's cries as well. Tyler wiped his eyes and gave a breathless, bitter laugh at the lateness of their arrival as he looked down at the girl once more. With a painful twist in his heart, he placed a careful hand upon her belly and sent up prayers for them both.

"Halt!" a guard shouted as he cleared the same corner as Tyler had just earlier. Tyler lifted his head to acknowledge him, finding himself at the end of a raised bow.

"You're too late," he said, raising his voice to carry it over the din of more guards arriving on tall stallions, all dressed in the blue and silver of King Shaun's insignia. "They're already gone," he added, realizing with a twinge that it was true regarding both robbers and victims.

"Move away from the lady," the same guard ordered, seemingly ignoring his words and motioning for Tyler to step back.

Frowning in confusion, Tyler did as he instructed and slowly rose to his feet, backing away a few steps as he kept his gaze steady on the guard. "The robbers fled in the other direction. If you hurry, you might be able to -"

"Silence!" a second guard interrupted him and dismounted his horse, followed by two more, all while the first made no move to lower his bow. They approached quickly, the two flanking guards hurrying forward.

The determined look in their eyes made Tyler recoil a few steps before they grabbed hold of his arms, holding him in place. "What -?" was all he managed before his arms were twisted around his back sharply, making him cry out at the sudden flare of pain in his shoulders. His eyes watered while he grit his teeth, making him squint at the guard that stood in front of him now, seemingly the one in charge. "Let go of me!"

"They will do no such thing," the man drawled as if bored, slowly sizing him up. "Your name?"

"Tyler," he replied, "squire of the late Sir Andrew Latham. I've just arrived back fr- "

"Who?" The man interrupted and frowned at him in bewilderment as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I have never heard of anyone by that name, and certainly no nobleman."

Tyler blinked at him, his mouth working silently for a few moments before he found his voice again. "Sir Andrew and I were sent on a mission abroad long ago, four years to be exact. Perhaps you've merely forgotten..." he trailed off as he tried to think of a reason why this man would be unfamiliar with his master's name. "When did you enter the royal guard? You could have just missed learning about us..."

"That is quite enough," the guard held up a hand to silence Tyler. "I will not stand here and listen to the fairytale ramblings of a murderer while his victims are still war-"

"What?!" Tyler broke in with a shout, his eyes growing wide as his entire body washed over with cold dread. The grip on his arms tightened when he tried to step forward in urgency. "I'm trying to tell you; the robbers ran off just before you arrived! I'm a knight's squire, not a murderer!"

"And where's your master then, may I ask?" the guard asked, his voice growing steely along with his eyes while he leaned in to fix Tyler with a steady glare.

"He was killed in battle." Tyler almost choked on the words, the memory still raw even the short few weeks after his passing.

"Of course he was." The guard was back to drawling again, smiling at Tyler as if humoring him. "Now while your accomplices may have gotten away, you are hereby under arrest for murder and robbery," he finished with a dismissive wave of his hand before turning on his heel and heading back towards his horse again.

Struggling against the hold on his arms, Tyler lunged forward desperately. "I haven't done anything," he shouted after him. "This is a misunderstanding; just bring me to the king and he'll explain!"

"Oh, you'll be brought in front of the king, alright," the guard laughed as he mounted his stallion in one smooth motion, grinning down at Tyler as he sat back. "Just you wait."

—^-^-^—

Tyler coughed drily, his body shaking with cold as he fell forward over his knees with the force of his coughs. Once he'd regained his breath again, he cringed at the pain that shoot through his arms. He twisted his wrists slowly to try to relieve them of some of the ache of being shackled together at the small of his back, attached by a short chain to the stone wall behind him.

The damp air of his cell made the chill creep all the way through his flesh to his very bones, making his movements stiff and twitchy. The darkness that surrounded him rendered it impossible to tell if it was night or day and the hours had melted together to the point where Tyler had lost track of how long he'd been sitting there, drifting in and out of restless sleep as he waited. What he was waiting for, however, he dared not even contemplate.

The sudden loud screech of metal grating against stone interrupted the constant echo of a steady drip of water, signaling the opening of the wrought iron bared door. Tyler jumped weakly in surprise, blinking his eyes open to see three guards walk towards him. Two of them bent to lift him from the floor while the third, now familiar, guard stood back to smirk at him in the light of the small torch he held. Beside him stood a tall, much older man dressed in a long dark robe, edged by glinting silver thread in intricate patterns and studded with precious stones at the buttoned collar.

Tyler wobbled unsteadily on his feet and had to be held up by one of the men at his side while the other unlocked his chains, though his gaze never once wavered from the furrowed face in front of him as he waited for the man to speak.

"How's our noble Sir Tyler fairing today, pray tell?" the man grinned maliciously, showing off a row of yellowing teeth. Tyler shook his head in defeat, barely keeping from sighing in response at the stubborn manner in which these people refused to trust his word.

"I never claimed to be a noble; my master, Sir Andrew..." his croaking voice strained out before it broke as he coughed violently, his dry throat making it difficult to speak. He gasped a few times before continuing in a whisper, "If you would just ask King Shaun -"

"Do not speak his name, wretch!" The man's face turned as cold as the stone walls of the dungeon before a hard slap made Tyler's head whip sideways violently. "That's enough of your lies! The court has already decided your punishment; there is no use in running your mouth any further."

Tyler traced the cut in his lip with the tip of his tongue, spitting the tangy taste of blood onto the floor. Knowing that there was no use in fighting it, he let the tension fall from his body and allowed his hands to be tied together again in front of him. He followed in defeat as the guards started guiding him out of his cell and up through long corridors. Before long, the sharp white light of an overcast day made Tyler squint as they passed through an open door to the outside.

The murmurs of a large assembly of people revealed their presence before Tyler's eyes had adapted to the light enough to be able to see them. The moment he did, however, seemed to be the very same moment that they noticed him too, and the noises grew from a low hum to a sudden resounding chorus of jeers and heckles.

Tyler paused as he stared in disbelief at the faces in front of him, unable to comprehend that these were the same villagers that he'd left behind all those years ago. They were transformed, unrecognizable. The smiling faces that had surrounded him in his youth had turned haggard and drawn; the smiles that had filled his childhood now covered by a shadow that hadn't been there before he left home.

Yet nothing about this place reminded him of home, save for the walls that surrounded the inner courtyard they were in. The guards tugged him forward once more, urging him to follow a narrow parting in the crowds while insults were shouted at him from every direction. He lifted his gaze and saw an elevated platform up ahead, and his heart almost stopped beating in dread at the sight of strong beams lined by a row of thick ropes dangling in the slight breeze.

"No," he said and began to struggle against the hold on his arms again, panicking. "No, wait! You have to listen to me; I haven't harmed a soul. Please, the king will know who I am!"

His pleas went unanswered. He searched desperately for understanding in the eyes he walked passed; some of them filled with venomous contempt and others with pity, but no one seemed to want to listen as he was being lead ever closer to his demise. And the harder he struggled, the tighter the grips that held him captive became.

It was no use. Tyler had seen enough of these public hangings in foreign territories to know that nothing he could possibly say or do now would make any difference. His chance at mercy had passed and all he could do now was hope for a swift death.

While he was being led up the short steps onto the platform, Tyler closed his eyes. He didn't want to be forced to look out over a sea of people he'd thought were his kin while he met his maker by their hand. He wondered briefly if his own family - his mother and father - were among the gathered. And if they were, had they seen him? Might they even have seen him and chosen to stay silent?

It was a despairing thought, but Tyler found he couldn't help but be overcome by grief as he was pulled to a stop and turned slightly to his left by his shoulders. He felt something brush down over his fringe before the weight of the noose settled on his shoulders and he screwed his eyes tightly shut even while someone tugged on the rope to tighten it around his neck.

The jeering slowly settled down, falling back into lower murmurs as a morbid anticipation of the upcoming event grew collectively. Tyler drew a deep, shuddering breath, knowing it would be one of the last he'd ever take. His pulse had never been quicker and his heart fluttered unsteadily inside his chest. Never before had he been more helpless, more frightened, and he sent up one last silent prayer for the heavens to spare him.

Then there was a shout, one that differed greatly from the rest. The voice carried as clear as bells above the din of the crowd, which quickly went silent at the sudden interruption.

"Stop this!" it called. "Stop it now!"

Tyler wondered if he was already hearing heaven, so convinced was he that the voice belonged to an angel. Slowly blinking his eyes open, it seemed that he wasn't quite as far from the truth as one could have argued.

Standing at the railing of a stall in front of him was a young man with familiar features, holding up a hand to halt the proceedings. He was dressed in fine robes and carried a crown on his head, his blue eyes wide with worry as he stared back at Tyler.

Tyler heard his own breath leave him on a gasp of relief as Prince Troye continued after a moment, the lower tone of his voice still clearly heard in the silence that surrounded them.

"I know him."

—


	3. Chapter 3

\--

Troye silently watched the milling crowds in the courtyard below from his seat in the covered stall, carefully keeping a stoic expression on his face.

He didn't enjoy these events at all, even if he knew that he was expected to. Actually, he hated them. There was and never would be anything remotely thrilling about watching another person become deprived of their life, no matter what crimes they were guilty of.

Troye had never really been much of a god fearing boy, but if there was such a thing as a God like the one that most people believed in, then wasn't it a bit blasphemous to assume that one could speak on behalf of them? Or a bit hypocritical to pass judgment when the holy scriptures said that only God could judge a person's deeds? In the end, making these public executions into something meant to entertain the masses was more than tasteless and, frankly, quite sick in Troye's opinion.

But his opinion carried little, if any, weight these days. Glancing sideways at the man who sat in the higher, more ornate chair on his left, Troye wondered what had become of his father. For the man sitting beside him wasn't the father that he had once known; he merely wore his appearance.

His mother had long ago stopped attending public functions and it was her deliberate seclusion that had slowly but surely changed her husband from a warm, kindhearted man into someone even his own children no longer recognized. Yet Laurelle wasn't to blame for the current situation; her illness was merely the catalyst tinder that made sorrow spread like a wildfire to singe and ruin everything that had once been bright and joyful.

The arrival of a tall man with a slightly sunken face lifted Troye from his brooding thoughts and his eyes followed the man as he walked up the steps of their private stall and stood at the king's side. Troye's hands turned into fists as he watched Jeremy bend slightly to whisper something in his father's ear, all at once angered by his presence in their lives and curious about to what corrupting drivel he might be spewing today.

At Shaun's nod, Jeremy stood back up, his gaze landing on Troye for a moment. The old man looked mighty pleased. Of course he would find pleasure in the proceedings, Troye scoffed silently; there was a hanging about to take place after all, and it looked like the king had just given Jeremy clearance to collect the poor soul from the dungeons.

Troye narrowed his eyes while returning the stare and Jeremy aimed a barely visible smirk at him before heading down into the courtyard once more.

No, his mother had little to do with how things were now, Troye thought as he watched Jeremy signal a few guards to follow him into the prison hold. It was the questionable men that surrounded King Shaun every day, the ones that were supposed to aid and advice their king on how best to rule his kingdom, that made Troye weary. Some of them were wise and virtuous, of course, but there were one or two that seemed to always see things in a gloomy light, as if distrustful of everything they came upon in life.

What little he'd been allowed to hear of the advise they passed on sounded sordid to Troye, leaving a sour taste in his mouth and a knot of unease in his gut. To him, it was plain to see that these men couldn't be trusted. Like vultures feeding on the weak and vulnerable, they sowed poisonous ideas in his father's heart, making his temper short and his mood even darker than what was reasonable. Jeremy was one of them and the one Troye liked the least. He was slowly but surely altering King Shaun's persona, one word of ill intent at a time, and since no one cared to listen to him, Troye could do nothing but watch it happen.

He was handed a lot of responsibility when his older brother Steele had left for business abroad a few months earlier, leaving Troye as the oldest of the royal children present at court. With their mother's illness keeping her isolated, Troye was expected to be seen beside his father at public affairs such as this, no matter how much he disliked it.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the events unfold when the noise from the crowds rose with taunts and shouts of hatred. He wished he was anywhere else but there, anyone else than the prince of a land where the hostility in his father's advisors had trickled down to affect the entire kingdom and its citizens.

Between the jeers, a desperate voice could be heard calling out for mercy, the words indistinguishable but the pleading tone impossible to miss. Troye sighed heavily with sorrow. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Blinking against the moisture that burned behind his eyelids, Troye slowly lifted his gaze to the scene before him. He caught the proceedings just as the criminal was being lead up the short steps onto the podium by two guards, his posture slumping and his head hanging low. Seeing the man be lead to his death made pain tug at Troye's heart.

And then it all but stopped beating. Or at least it felt like it did when Troye gasped and froze in his seat. Wide eyed with shock, he watched as the criminal was turned to face the crowds.

His features had changed a bit; the softness of youth having morphed into something more angular and handsomely defined. His light hair, which usually shone the color of a newly risen sun, was matted and dull. Gently bronzed skin was smudged with dirt here and there, as were the frayed clothes he wore. His face carried an expression of defeat and fear, yet his entire being radiated so strongly of life that the air practically hummed with it. And that palpable force was what convinced Troye that his eyes weren't lying.

Because there was no longer any doubt. It was him. The boy who had visited Troye in his dreams for longer than he could remember, who he had thought he'd never see again, was standing up there on the podium, having a noose fitted around his neck. Except he wasn't a boy anymore – _Tyler_ , Troye recalled at last, was a man.

And now he was about to be snatched away from him for the second time before Troye had even had a chance begin to comprehend that Tyler was, in fact, still alive. The shocking reality of the situation made Troye act without thinking and he stood up to shout over the quieting crowd.

"Stop this!" he called out. "Stop it now!"

His heart was beating wildly, so fast that he could feel his blood pulsing through his veins in thick surges, and he felt lightheaded from the rush. He couldn't be sure if it was that or the weight of Tyler's gaze that made him wobble in his feet when Tyler's eyes fluttered open to stare back at him across the courtyard. He looked confused at first, as if wondering if he was hearing things. But then a flicker of recognition stole across Tyler's face and Troye almost lost his breath at the hope that replaced it a moment later.

“I know him," Troye continued, not even aware that he was speaking and hearing his own voice as if it were a mere whisper.

It became clear that it wasn't when his father's voice broke through the heavy silence. "'Know him'? Troye, have you lost your mind?! Sit down and be quiet!"

King Shaun's words turned from startled to a growled command, making Troye blink as if waking up from a dream and look at him while finally comprehending what he was doing.

"Yes, I do know him, father, and so do you! He is under employment of the crown. This is a mistake!" Troye argued and turned to look at Tyler again. "There has to have been a mistake..."

Troye knew he was right just by looking at him; the crimes Tyler was sentenced for could not have been of his doing. Tyler's eyes were cautious while he looked from Troye to King Shaun, following their interaction with as much interest as the rest of the people gathered. No one had dared make a sound, all waiting with bated breath for what was to happen next.

That was until Jeremy stepped forward. "What does my lord think he's doing?" he gritted out through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing darkly at Troye. "That miscreant was caught redhanded, standing over his own innocent victims. He deserves to hang!"

Shaking his head, Troye was about to argue when the king broke in, "Troye, I am ordering you; stop this nonsense or I will have you removed!"

Shaun's voice rose dangerously, but Troye swallowed what little fear it inspired in favor of the surge of rebellion that filled him. "No!" he challenged, turning on his father with defiance. However, the warning glare that Shaun shot him made Troye soften his demeanor. "When have I ever gone against your wishes? When have I ever disobeyed you and given you reason not to trust me?"

He reached down to cover Shaun's hand with his own, hoping that the rare touch would wake a side to his father that had been dormant for a long time, a part of him that still harbored compassion and care.

"That man would never do what he is being accused of," Troye continued, his voice softer now, pleading. He didn't understand how or why he could be so sure about this, but he was. "I know it as surely as I am standing here. We owe it to him to hear what he has to say... Please, father, for me... Spare him."

Troye hadn't noticed how tightly he was clutching his father's hand until Shaun shifted uneasily in his seat, glancing down at Troye's hand on top of his. Relaxing a bit, Troye eased his grip but didn't let go. He wanted – no, _needed_ – his father to understand that he wasn't acting on a whim. This was truly a matter of life or death and Troye would never forgive himself if he let any harm come to Tyler now that the man had more or less returned from the dead.

"Please," Troye whispered. He was not even aware that tears were forming in his eyes again until he spoke. But it didn't matter how desperate he seemed as long as his father gave the right command.

King Shaun eyed him warily but didn't say anything for long moments. Jeremy shifted restlessly beside them, bending forward to address the king. "Your highness, if I may -"

"Silence!" King Shaun all but roared and Jeremy jumped back quickly, wisely heeding orders as he stepped into the shadows of the shaded stall.

Troye felt as if his heart was about to beat out of his chest as he waited in silence along with everyone else. He desperately wanted to know Tyler's reaction, but didn't dare look away from his father even once to see for himself. The king glanced in the direction of the podium and then sighed long and drawn out, his chest rising and falling slowly before he looked to Troye once more, his gaze almost imperceptibly softer this time. "Very well," he said and it was all Troye could do to keep from throwing his arms around his father's neck in gratitude.

Instead, he smiled carefully and nodded, blinking through his tears as he squeezed Shaun's hand. Shaun pulled it away as if stung, but Troye found he couldn't bring himself to be sad when relief was spreading its warmth throughout his being.

"I require an audience with this man immediately," King Shaun ordered the guards at his side while he stood, turning to Troye. "And I expect you to explain yourself. If you are wrong about this, Troye..." Shaun trailed off in warning.

"I swear I'm not. You can trust me," Troye rushed to reply, his smile growing.

Shaun opened his mouth as if he was about to add something, but changed his mind and closed it again. Instead, he gave a short nod and turned quickly to walk out of the stall, Jeremy following close behind and glaring daggers at Troye. Once they were gone, the countless people in the crowds suddenly began talking in earnest about what they had just seen, and it was as if sound rushed back into existence again with the buzz of gossip.

Troye finally allowed himself to look out towards the podium again, squinting at the light that suddenly filled the courtyard. The sun had burst through the clouds as if to join in the jubilation he felt when he saw the rope being lifted from Tyler's neck.

Tyler stared back at him, a stunned expression on his face and tears streaming freely from his wide eyes. His hands were covering his mouth and once his wrists were unbound, Tyler lowered them to reveal a watery smile.

He couldn't hear him, but Troye could clearly read the 'thank you'-s on Tyler's lips as he repeated them over and over while he was being led away. Troye's smile widened and he inclined his head in acknowledgement. Stopping the execution had been the only possible option in Troye's mind. As he made his way back into the castle, he had a feeling that the events of this afternoon would prove to be the start of something life-altering.

\--^-^-^--

"Do you realize what I just did for you?" King Shaun strode across the room and turned with a flourish, fixing Troye with a stare.

Troye stood stock still by the door to the smaller room, which was off to the side of the larger greeting hall. Two guards flanked the closed door, but aside from them, Troye and the king were alone, having left the advisors outside.

Troye gave a small smile. "I do, father, and thank you endlessly -"

"No," the king interrupted and began pacing restlessly while he gestured to emphasize his words. "I do not think you are aware of quite how vulnerable my position becomes after doing something like this. People lose confidence in a leader who can't stand by his word, let alone his own laws, not to mention the ridicule that comes with being 'too soft', unfit to rule..."

Something inside Troye gave a painful twinge at the words, suddenly reminded of the way people normally said the very same thing about him, even his own father. "I know it all too well, sire," Troye all but bit out. He scowled, meeting and holding King Shaun's gaze unwaveringly until his father was the first to look away. Then he softened his tone once more. "No one will ridicule you, because what you did was an act of kindness and mercy by a sound mind, not weakness or senselessness. If anything, your people will respect you more for it."

The king eyed him silently for a moment, but didn't answer him. When he then proceeded to change the subject, Troye thought it best to leave it for the time being.

"I am still waiting for you to explain in what way we supposedly know this young man." King Shaun's voice was guarded, as were his eyes when he narrowed them and crossed his arms over his chest. His sudden rise to his full height made Troye feel smaller than usual.

"Have you already forgotten all about Sir Andrew?" Troye asked, tilting his head slightly and watching carefully for any sort of reaction from his father. A brief flicker of recognition flashed in the king's eyes at the mention of the name before he shook his head. "You received a missive shortly after my sixteenth birthday, delivering word of his and his squire's passing. I remember because I... The news saddened me greatly..." Troye lowered his gaze, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. The news truly had devastated him and he remembered how he'd locked himself in his room to be alone. There, he had cried for hours, mourning the blond boy that he'd never really had the chance to get to know, yet still held so dear.

"That was a little more than two years after you had sent Sir Andrew away to Anthea to mediate negotiations in your stead," he continued, pointing towards the door. "And his squire was Tyler, the very same man that is now waiting for us out there."

King Shaun's gaze followed the gesture before going back to focus on Troye. "I do remember Sir Andrew; you are quite right about that. But I cannot seem to recall his squire... Are you confident that this man truly is him?"

"I am," Troye said firmly.

"Then why would Anthea tell us he was killed two years ago?" King Shaun looked off to his side as if pondering possible explanations. "Does this mean Sir Andrew is alive too?"

Troye knew that the king wasn't expecting a reply from him, so he smiled softly while stepping away from the door. "Maybe Tyler can give you an idea of why they would say that," he encouraged gently, and when his father looked up again, Troye gestured at the clear path between him and the way out into the hall.

Closing the distance between them, the king stilled only a few steps away from Troye. "Now, we need to be careful. That young man out there is a stranger; neither you, nor I, know him as more than someone Sir Andrew employed. He may be under the crowns orders, but that is no guarantee that he has the sense to follow them. This means that he could very well be guilty of the crimes he is charged with."

Opening his mouth, Troye was about to protest when his father interrupted him with a voice laden with warning. "Depending on what he has to say, I might be willing to give him a chance to prove me wrong. But if he is caught breaking the law even the slightest, so help me God, I will not hesitate to gut him myself! And you," Shaun aimed a cautioning finger at Troye, "will not say a word in there. You have said quite enough already."

First shaking his head in reply to the first command, and then nodding quickly at the second, Troye knew that it was best to do what his father said this time, even if it was only for a little while in order to make him think that he had a say at all. And even if speaking his mind had saved an innocent life today, Troye was certain that the king would not appreciate a reminder right this very moment. Hopefully, he'd have the chance to see and talk to Tyler again soon after today.

With that, King Shaun made his way out into the hall, Troye following shortly after. The advisors had gathered in front of the throne at one end to converse quietly between themselves. Countless guards lined the walls, unmoving and stoic like statues. Troye's eyes immediately followed the long, deep red rug that lead to the entrance at the other end of the room.

At their appearance, the advisors broke apart and reassembled around King Shaun like schooling fish while he made his way passed them and up the few step to his throne. A jumble of whispers, none of them discernible to Troye, accosted the king even as he'd taken his seat. Wrinkling his nose, he waved the men aside, clearly not interested in hearing anything they'd have to add.

"Bring in the prisoner!" The king's voice was spear through the quiet hall, bouncing momentarily between stone walls and the high ceiling above them. Troye, along with everyone else, turned to look as the guards opened the heavy doors.

Hauled forward by his arms, Tyler was dragged through the entrance and up the hall towards them by two guards, resembling the way he'd been pulled to his execution earlier with the exception of the look on his face, which was now one of hope.

Troye's heart started beating a bit faster at seeing the other man closer than before, even if he looked a little haggard perhaps. No wonder, though; Troye would probably not look his best after almost a week in the prison hold either. Yet none of the surface imperfections mattered, because Troye was sure he'd never seen a sight so heavenly before.

And it seemed that maybe he wasn't alone in feeling that way, for the moment that Tyler lifted his head, his eyes went immediately to Troye where he was standing a bit off to the side. Tyler didn't smile, however. He actually looked almost like he'd seen a ghost, his gaze was so intense. It made Troye want to squirm, and he shifted under the scrutiny, glancing up at his father. King Shaun was watching carefully from his place in the high-backed throne, his narrowing eyes guarded yet interested.

Troye looked back at Tyler just as the guards pulled him to a stop a few paces away, and he barely had time to see how Tyler tore lose from the guards and moved towards him. Gasping in surprise and eyes widening, Troye froze when Tyler drew quickly nearer, faintly registering the guards giving startled shouts. His heart began racing and he wasn't quite sure what to think when, suddenly, Tyler bowed his head and fell to his knees in front of him, reaching for one of his hands.

Allowing his hand to be taken, the touch made Troye gasp again, but for different reasons altogether. He wasn't used to physical contact with anyone who wasn't family or a highly trusted member of the court, and even then it was limited to the occasional loose embrace at the most. The sudden feeling of two warm, soft hands cradling his was a little overwhelming in the midst of it all, and it made Troye a bit lightheaded as he looked down at the top of Tyler's blond head.

And then he blushed. He'd never had anyone kneel at his feet like this before, much less someone like Tyler, and now that the moment had settled and they could all breathe again, Troye found he didn't much mind the attention.

"Forgive me, but I do not have the words to express how grateful I am for what my lord did," Tyler spoke, his head still bowed over Troye's hand. "Surely I will never be able to repay it, but that will not keep me from trying. Please do not think twice of calling upon this debt I owe; I will be glad to aid my lord in any way that I can, humble as it might be. It will be my honor."

Troye's heart was still hammering rapidly in his chest and he felt his blush deepen as he glanced up. He didn't quite dare meet the eyes of anyone assembled, but smiled apologetically in the general direction of the throne before focusing back on Tyler. Remembering his promise to stay quiet, he gave a little pull to his hand, glad when Tyler understood the silent command and lifted his head to look at him.

Allowing his smile to widen unhindered, Troye gazed in silent wonder into honest, blue eyes, suddenly certain beyond any doubt that his life had indeed been changed this day. For the better.

-


End file.
